


Saturdays with Midorima

by SunnyLockwood



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Family, Fanservice, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-06
Updated: 2015-04-06
Packaged: 2018-03-21 13:16:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3693632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunnyLockwood/pseuds/SunnyLockwood
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It would be rather interesting to know how a certain eccentric, bespectacled shooting guard spends his weekends.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Saturdays with Midorima

**Author's Note:**

> I hope to convince you that Midorima Shintarou is one hot dork.

The sun painted the whole horizon with brilliant hues of oranges and yellows. Sunlight peeked through the windows of each residence and building. The city awoke from its slumber, as the sun slowly rose. Streets were abuzz with life. Drivers fought their way through congested roads. A myriad rushed across pedestrian lanes, heading toward their respective workplaces and schools. Commuters waited for the train or bus to arrive. Diners were astir as waiters and waitresses accommodated the increasing influx of customers. Shops opened and displayed their wares.

Midorima Shintarou kicks off his day at exactly six o'clock in the morning.

_Ribbit. Ribbit. Ribbit._

Uttering a soft groan, he turned in his bed.

_Ribbit. Ribbit. Ribbit._

Emerald eyes gradually fluttered open and squinted, attempting to take in the detail of its surroundings. Blinking for a few times, his eyes finally adjusted to the light.

_Ribbit. Ribbit. Ribbit._

The bedroom was minimalistic yet elegantly furnished: ivory-colored walls, varnished oakwood furniture, a coat hanger by the white door serving as an entrance to his room, an air conditioning unit and heater. Like the bookworm and hardworking student Shintarou is, his room cannot but have a large bookshelf, housing his school textbooks, favorite novels, previous lucky items, classical music CDs, and trophies, medals and framed certificates ranging from piano competitions and recitals, student awards to basketball recognitions; all arranged in an orderly fashion. The larger lucky items were either displayed throughout the room as decorations or stored inside the small closet beside his bathroom, making one wonder if this room really belonged to someone serious and uptight.

_Ribbit. Ribbit. Ribbit._

Within the bookshelf's proximity was his study table. On top of it sat a green desk lamp to the far upper left, an organizer and origami he and sister made together at the opposite end and a green laptop in the middle. Three drawers were under the left side of the table, containing his notebooks, writing implements, scratch and clean paper, and headphones. Whenever Shintarou needed to work, he fitted himself comfortably into a white executive chair. Schoolbags were placed on the floor, left to recline onto the table.

_Ribbit. Ribbit. Ribbit._

Shintarou's left hand reached for the nightstand and searched for his spectacles. After putting them on, he sat up, back against the headboard, and gave his ridiculously loud Kerosuke alarm clock, a gift from his younger sister, a gentle tap on the head. It stopped croaking. He removes his mint-colored nightcap and began his usual regimen of morning stretches. Feeling satisfied, he got out of his covers, put on his fuzzy bedroom slippers and made his bed, puffing pillows and folding his grey blanket in the process. While walking across the room to his wardrobe, he patted his pajama shirt to ease any wrinkles. Upon opening it, he took his hand tape, a plain charcoal colored shirt, loose black basketball shorts and a pair of plain white socks.

He placed the items on his study table and lost no time unbuttoning his white pinstripe pajama shirt and removing his pants. The articles slid off his broad shoulders and long legs, leaving him nothing but black boxers.

He took hold of his dirty garments, went inside the bathroom and dumped them into the laundry bin. He looked himself in the mirror, turned on the tap and began brushing his pearly white teeth. No nook or cranny was unbrushed. During Shintarou's younger years, he had to wear retainers to force his teeth into compliance. His teeth were rebellious, but now, they are finely arranged. Not that he was vain, but he did everything humanly possible in all aspects of his life.

"Man proposes; God disposes," is his motto, after all.

Having wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, he proceeded to remove his glasses and wash his face. Water trickled down that handsomely chiseled face, down his forehead to his green eyebrows, from his defined cheeks to the side of his neck. Long eyelashes trapped some of the water, causing a slightly damper appearance to already half-lidded eyes. His right hand blindly groped for a face towel. He wiped his face and ran his bare left hand through his hair.

Shintarou went back to his room and sat on the edge of the bed to put on his shirt and shorts and tape on his fingers, nails already manicured the night before. One by one, his fingers were enveloped methodically, starting with the thumb, all the way to the pinky. Immediately, he wore his socks and went downstairs. His family was still asleep. Breakfast on Saturdays was usually served at half past seven, after his jogging session. When he finished tying his shoes, he went outside and commenced his exercise routine.


End file.
